Disclaimer: I don't, never have, and never will own Harry Potter. If I did, than my name would be J.K. Rowling and you wouldn't be reading this.

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"Acceptance of one's life has nothing to do with resignation; it does not mean running away from the struggle. On the contrary, it means accepting it as it comes, with all the handicaps of heredity, of suffering, of physiological complexes and injustices." -Dr. Paul Tournier

He stayed in his bed for another hour or so, just staring into the darkness. He knew he wasn't going to get back to sleep. Really, what else was he to do? Sneak out?

He sat up in his bed. He could possibly sneak out. Obviously, he wouldn't be as foolish with it as he was when he was a child- but, if he was clever enough with it…

He threw the blankets off. He formulated his plan as he pulled on his clothing. He wasn't going to just walk out, no, that would be stupid and childish. He summoned the lights on.

"Daney," he whispered.

A small house elf appeared in front of him and bowed, "Yes, young master? What does young master need from Daney?"

"Listen, Daney, I need your help," he said in a quiet voice, not really sure why, he doubted that anyone would be able to hear unless they were purposely pressing their ears against the door. It seemed appropriate for the situation.

"Yes, young master?"

"I'm going to be going out," he told the house elf as he pulled on his shoes, "but mother and father aren't aware and that's how it will remain, understand?"

Daney nodded obediently.

"Don't tell them where I am if they ask," he opened his wooden wardrobe, "and when they get too suspicious, come and tell me, and then apparate me back here, to the manor," he looked back at the house elf, "Understand?"

"Yes, sir," said the small house elf.

It was so simple, he was surprised he hadn't thought of it when he was younger. It would have saved him a great deal of pain…

He grabbed his wand, pocketed it, and went through one of his shelves. Finding it, he pulled out a purple bag of money and also pocketed it.

He pulled on a dark, inconspicuous-looking coat. Before he headed out, he stopped. A strange feeling of déjà vu swept over him.

She held her head up with her hand as she leaned against the wooden table, barely hearing what her parents said. She knew what they were saying, what they always said, "Now, we need to know if you're okay with it. You can tell us if you're not."

She didn't see how she could. And what difference would it make?

Of course she wasn't happy about it- if that's what they meant by "okay." What teenager is happy about leaving their home? Even if they've already done it a few times before, considering how much they moved…

She wished she could yell or shout at someone. Maybe punch something. She wasn't accustomed to bottling her feelings like this.

She hadn't gotten much sleep last night. Packing her trunk had woken her up temporarily, but sitting and not doing much had made her drowsy again.

She glanced briefly at the discolored area on her arm. She remembered how she had gotten it; when she was younger and playing with a boy. She used to wonder what had happened to him. Poor kid…

It was always more visible in the summer/early fall weather- or just whenever it was warmer, for two reasons. One, she would wear short sleeve shirts when it's warmer, allowing people to see the exposed skin. Two, scars didn't tan, obviously, so it's paleness would stand out from the surrounding skin. Being a metamorphmagus, she knew that she could always 'hide it,' but she never saw the need.

She forgot what was going on.

"Avy?"*

Her eyes flew open, startled. She realized she had fallen asleep. She sat up in her chair, trying to fight off the tiredness.

She didn't like it when they called her 'Avy,' but she supposed it was better than their old nickname for her. She shuddered slightly, at the thought of it.

"Are you sure that there's nothing bothering you- about this?"

"What?- oh, no, of course not," she lied.

Her mother looked at her with some concern, "Are you really sure, honey? I mean, if there's something you're concerned about, or aren't sure of, we want to know."

"No, really, I'm fine. I'll live. It's just living somewhere else for a while, no big deal, right?" she said, doing her best to sound unconcerned.

"It actually is a 'big deal,'" her father said, "And if you don't like it, we should know."

Why? Why would her not liking it change anything? Why should she tell them that? They ask so much, don't they already know?

"Really," she said, trying to put as much sincerity into her voice as she could, "I don't have a problem with it."

She saw her parents' eyes on her, as though expecting her to suddenly change her mind and spill her thoughts out to them. She did no such thing- not that she didn't want to- and that seemed to be the end of it.

She soon found herself walking out the door with her trunk, following her parents. They warily kept glancing at her, something she tried to ignore. She saw her father put an arm around her mother, and her mother cuddled into him. She just gave an inaudible sigh.

She was very lucky, in terms of her parents, actually. Even though her father was a werewolf, her mother loved him enough to be able to look beyond the society-set prejudices and accept the risks. Also, her mother was a firm enough woman to stay with her husband, despite his immediate concerns. And even though he was a werewolf, he was a very kind, good-hearted man.

Despite her father's expert control over it, inside him was a wolf. That wolf had an extremely dangerous temper. Unfortunately for her, she inherited that bad temper, and she didn't inherit the control.

She was half-werewolf but, much to her father's relief, she didn't transform during the full moon but, she did get especially temperamental. She did inherit the super-human senses- acute hearing, sensitive smell, sharp sight, longer endurance, and an odd sleeping schedule.

On the other hand, she inherited her father's love of chocolate.

They reached the edge of the sidewalk. Her father took his wand out of his coat pocket and held it out towards the street.

He crept his way towards the back door. He didn't want to exit the manor using the main doors, there was too much chance that someone would be along that route.

He didn't dare summon the light on, either. He had to use his knowledge of the layout- and the faint light that emitted from various magical objects- to navigate.

He kept glancing back and around corners and jumping at the slightest of sounds. His heart raced. What if he got caught? Would his parents believe he was just heading to the kitchens to get water? That was the oldest excuse in history.

He felt against the wall, his hand searching for the doorknob. He found it, and clutched it in his hand. He opened the door tentatively, and let out a relieved sigh at the feel of the cool, early morning air.

He stepped outside. The sky was beginning to light, pink colored the distant horizons. He barely gave the manor behind him an unconcerned glance before heading off.

Where would he go? How would he get there? What would he do? So many possibilities were open to him. But he had to be careful. If his father ever got word of what he was doing- he shuddered at the thought.

He walked swiftly. Diagon Alley, he thought. Possibly take a detour to Knockturn Alley. That was a start. He could figure out where he would go later, if anywhere.

He reached the nearest street and, without hesitation, held out his wand.

There was a sudden screech of tires and a purple, triple-decker bus came barreling down the street. The words "Knight Bus" streaked across the window in large, blazing gold letters.

"Hello," the conductor in the purple uniform droned. He was a tall, gangly man with long, brown hair tied back, "My name is Roy Worme, and I will be your conductor for this morning. Welcome to the Knight Bus, convenient transportation for any witch or wizard," he eyed the teenager in front of him, "Where would you like to go?"

"Diagon Alley," he answered immediately.

"We can take you to the Leaky Cauldron, and you can make your way on through there," Worme droned.

"Fine," he agreed listlessly.

"That'll be eleven sickles. For extra, you can have chocolate, a bottle of water, or a toothbrush."

"No," he said as he paid the money.

"Good," Worme muttered.

He brushed past the conductor. There were beds instead of seats. He looked to be one of the few passengers on the bus.

He gave an odd glance towards the conductor before he went to get on one of the beds.

"Wait a minute," Worme said, stopping him, "Probably should, anyway," he mumbled as he raised his wand. The beds disappeared and were replaced with chairs.

He sat in one of the chairs.

"Hey, Ernie," said Worme, "Got another," he pointed to the dashboard. On it was some kind of signal light, currently blinking. There was a map below it flashing a corresponding color on another street.

The bus sped into motion to pick up the new passengers.

The knight bus wheeled in front of them.

The conductor stepped out, "Welcome to the Knight bus, convenient transportation for any witch or wizard. I'm Roy Worme, and I will be your conductor this morning. Where will you all be heading?"

Her father told him the street quietly.

"Really?" said Worme in vague interest, "That's a first. Well, two galleons and twelve sickles for the lot."

Her dad paid the money and they climbed aboard. She glanced around the interior. Three decks, a chandelier, and chairs that were free to slide around. There were only three other visible passengers- a business witch, a wizard with an unbelievable amount of tattoos, and a blond teenage boy. All were separated and oblivious to each other, so they obviously weren't all together.

As they sat down, she felt the boy's eyes on her. She looked up to see him staring at her hair.

"What are you staring at?" she snapped.

"Purple hair? Really?" he smirked.

"Do you have some kind of problem with it?"

"Maybe I do," he slouched back in his chair. He glanced at her parents, and suddenly looked away from them.

She shook her head at him. A jerk, that's what he was. She hated jerks.

Still, there was some strange feeling she had about him. Uneasiness, she supposed.

She had purple hair, for Merlin's sake! How could anyone not stare!

He recognized the man with her straight away. Professor Lupin, no doubt. He could only guess that the woman with him was his wife, and the girl was his daughter.

He had a fear of werewolves, so he scooted away slightly. Knowing that Lupin would recognize him, he turned his head away and occupied him with the sights outside the window.

He zoned out, watching the world zoom by.

He could have sworn he had seen that girl before.

Must've been a family resemblance. That explained it.

* (Ay-vee) it's not her full name, it's a nickname. I'm looking for the right time to reveal her name, though it's not particularly important. If anyone is particularly curious, send me a message and I'll just tell you. Same for her mother.

Thank you for reading. Reviews are brilliant. If you spot any plot flaws, kindly let me know and I'll try to correct them.

Cheers!